


This Is Your Head (Never Let It Rule Your Heart)

by joidianne4eva



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers (Comic), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:05:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joidianne4eva/pseuds/joidianne4eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Jensen wanted to say, in his defence, was that he hadn’t meant to get shot, no matter what Roque said because Roque was a lying liar thing that lied and Jensen was too damn smart to try to stop a bullet with his vital organs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Your Head (Never Let It Rule Your Heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cougars_catnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cougars_catnip/gifts), [Saral_Hylor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saral_Hylor/gifts).



> Massive thanks to Cougars_Catnip and Saral_Hylor for the read through and beta. Even bigger thanks for the madness that lead to this fic. 
> 
> P.S. The title is a mangled Sherlock quote

The first thing Jensen wanted to say, in his defence, was that he hadn’t meant to get shot, no matter what Roque said because Roque was a lying liar thing that lied and Jensen was too damn smart to try to stop a bullet with his vital organs. This was why he liked trained mercenaries, as stupid as that sounded, but those big ugly motherfuckers were also pretty damn predictable; feint left and they’d go right because they thought you were gonna try and trick them. None of them stopped to think about the fact that maybe you were just gonna go left, it was mystery within a mystery, like Inception just with way more bloodshed but that wasn’t the point here.

The point was Jensen hadn’t meant to get shot but now that he had been he was going to teach these jackasses the meaning of pain and horror. Fucking shoot him and leave him to bleed out? Hell no!

Jensen pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as fire tore through his wounds. He wasn’t going to heal like this and he could hear his mother’s lecture about foreign bodies in wounds, shaking his head he shoved that aside because he didn’t need to be even more traumatized.

Glancing around Jensen nodded to himself, the rat bastards had left him alone but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be back to get rid of his body. Then there was the fact that as soon as Clay couldn’t raise him on his comm the whole team would probably bust in here trying to save him. All in all it just meant that if he was going to do something he needed to do it quickly or he'd have some serious explaining to do.

Gritting his teeth Jensen considered the wounds that he could see through the newly acquired holes in his shirt….and he’d liked that shirt!

Exhaling through his nose he focused on the lowest bullet wound, digging his fingers into the already closing wound and he curled in on himself when the fire from before blazed into a raging inferno as he dug his fingers deeper until they closed around the first bullet.

Yanking it out Jensen exhaled, watching as smoke poured from the wound, a second later all that remained of the injury was nothing but unmarred if bloody skin.

Snorting Jensen glanced at the bullet in his hand….only six more to go.

*O*

Most people thought that a Dulachan was just something that people made up to scare their kids and they were right because a grown ass Dulachan was scary as fuck. What people didn’t know was that the curse tended to be hereditary and Jensen’s mother just happened to be one, so when Jensen’s head had fucking rolled off one day, his mom hadn’t even batted an eye. Instead, he’d gotten introduced to a gorgeous, ink black colt, who he’d named Striker and been given a lecture on how things that got stuck in their necks usually ended up in strange places.

Jensen spent several years being scarred as hell before he started to look at the perks of the family curse and by the time he joined the army he’d pretty much embraced his heritage.

*O*

By the time the thugs that had decided to off him came back Striker was growing restless and Jensen’s hand on his flank was the only thing keeping him in place.

The three idiots had clearly come back for his body and Jensen grinned when they rounded the corner and froze.

“Hey, guys, miss me?” he greeted, making sure to show a helluva lot of teeth when the youngest of the three took a step back, his face paling in horror.

“You’re dead!” the man sputtered and Jensen’s grin morphed into something even more cold as he reached up and clasped his head in his hands, hooking his thumbs behind his ears as he tugged and the squelching sound of skin and muscle separating was only shattered by Striker’s snorts of impatience.

Holding his head under one arm Jensen grinned as one of the thugs hit the ground in a dead faint while the other two raced from the building.

“Happens every fucking time,” Jensen laughed, Striker just shook his head, pawing at the ground and Jensen grinned. “Ok, ok, hold your horses, we’ll go hunting but don’t think this means you’re the boss of me!” he groused as he climbed onto Striker’s back.

The moment that he was settled, one hand gripping Striker’s mane, the horse reared up, smoke wafting from his nostrils as he broke into a full gallop and Jensen laughed as they sped off into the night.

*O*

A few hours later Jensen was back in the warehouse when Clay and the others burst in like something out of a really bad cop show.

“You know that would work better if I was actually in danger,” Jensen observed from his seat on the ground. “Those two are who you’re looking for by the way,” he added when Clay eyed him.

His CO nodded making his way towards the two bound men while Roque followed closely behind. Cougar on the other hand focused on the tracks on the ground before his dark eyes flickered to Jensen. The tech just shrugged in response to the question in Cougar’s gaze. He always tried not to outright lie to Cougar because the man deserved better but Jensen wasn’t about to go shouting his secret from the rooftops either.

“You are well?” Cougar demanded and Jensen nodded.

“Just a bit roughed up but Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb over there are even more stupid than they look. I got out easy but the third guy got away.”

Cougar nodded, his attention flickering back to the men that Clay was questioning. Neither of the two were saying much but they wouldn’t take their eyes of Jensen and when the blond waggled his fingers at them they looked like they were going to pass out.

“Look we’ll tell you anything you wanna know, just get him the fuck away from me!” one of them cried when Jensen rose to his feet.

Clay frowned but gestured for Jensen to leave the room. Jensen just shrugged again before striding outside with Cougar shadowing him.

“What happened to them?” he inquired and Jensen’s lips curled into a dark smile.

“What can I say? I can be pretty intimidating once I get my head in gear,” he laughed, bumping his shoulder against Cougar’s when the sniper rolled his eyes at him.

“You are safe, it is enough,” Carlos responded and Jensen could almost hear the unsaid “For me,” but he didn’t call Cougar on it.

One day he was going to have to tell Cougar the truth but it wouldn’t be tonight. Striker had been sent home with a full stomach and Jensen had gotten the opportunity to stretch his legs…so to speak. Tonight was a good night even if he hadn’t meant to get shot in the first place.

 

 


End file.
